The Mortal Vestige: Immortal Wake, #3

By Zachry Wheeler

Book Three of the award-winning tech noir series.

 

The world writhes as a remorseless terror sweeps across the planet. The age of immortals is drawing to a close and the vestige of humanity lies in tatters.

 

Jonas, the failed leader of the human resistance, is adrift in a world that rejected him.

 

Having witnessed the cold cruelty of annihilation, he spent hours in a state of debilitating shock. But now he must venture back to the ruins of civilization in search of hope.

 

 

Praise for the Immortal Wake:

 

"Exceptionally well-written, thought-provoking." —Lex Allen, Readers' Favorite

 

"A fascinating take on the vampire mythos." —Keith Lane, TG Geeks

 

"A philosophical and cultural foray." —Victor Acquista, Podfobler Productions

 

"The world-building ... is simply amazing." —Geoff Habiger, Artemesia Publishing

 

"Gripping suspense that keeps you reading." —S.E. Sasaki, author of The Grace Lord Series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mayhematic Press
• Release date: Feb 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781999102784

Zachry Wheeler

Zachry Wheeler is an award-winning science fiction novelist, screenwriter, and shutterbug. He enjoys casual gardening, serious gaming, and wandering the wilds of New Mexico. Learn more at ZachryWheeler.com, where you can join his email list and receive a FREE limited edition eBook.

Book preview

COPYRIGHT

© 2020 by Zachry Wheeler

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-9991027-8-4

Edited by Jennifer Amon

Published by Mayhematic Press

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PROLOGUE

When humans proclaim the end of the world, what they mean to proclaim is the end of humanity. The world will consume our ashes and forget we were ever here.

A gentle breeze crept over the northern rim of the Grand Canyon. The morning sun clung to the eastern sky, shrouding the Colorado River beneath a grim shadow. The portrait was brutal and unrepentant, as if painted with sweeping strokes and left to bleed. An eagle sliced through rays of sunshine and called into the darkness as if to curse its presence.

A narrow outcrop stretched into the gorge from the upper rim, like a knife hanging over the edge of a counter. Gusts of wind rushed around the blade, creating a howling vortex. Large juniper trees peppered the surface. Their twisting branches gifted sweet aromas to the passing breeze and shaded the area from the beating sun.

The evergreen canopy enclosed a rustic picnic table. Planks of tempered wood attached to a metal frame that rested on a slab of brown stone, one of several along the terrain. Their offset patterns created rocky stairs that vanished at the canyon ledge. The table was perched on the highest slab, like a throne overlooking one of nature’s greatest wonders.

A sun-bleached human skeleton sat at the table, its white bones serving as a stark contrast to the earthy surroundings. It lay facedown on the parched wood with arms fanned out. Tattered fabric clung to the hunched frame. The clothes were faded and threadbare, for death had taken their owner a long time ago.

The corpse sat on the eastern side of the table, facing every glorious sunset for an untold number of years. A reasonable choice, given the allure of the land it occupied. Perhaps a final vision of perfection before yielding to a mystery ailment.

In any regard, it was a creature long forgotten.

A rugged path departed from the table and snaked through the thick foliage, leading back to the mainland expanse. Twigs and roots littered the ground, covering an access route long devoid of care. Desert creatures maintained it now as they sought to escape the midday heat. They paid no mind to the grisly resident, a fixture as placid as the table it guarded.

A twig snapped from afar.

Then silence.

Another snap, louder and closer.

A crow leapt from the canopy and flapped away.

An older man emerged from the foliage, wearing stout boots and practical clothes. His coarse beard and leathery skin declared his age, a mid-sixties gentleman with a wealth of mileage. A backpack hung from his sturdy frame, as the years had failed to dampen his resolve.

The man studied the area with slow pans, taking in the immediate surroundings with each calculated step. Every rock, every tree, a silent and deliberate hunt. When his gaze landed on the picnic table, he stopped dead in his tracks. His body hardened, but carried no fear or disgust. He just stared at the bones, lost inside an abyss known only to him.

His lips began to quiver.

An unknown torment stole the air from his lungs and yanked his gaze away. He gasped and wheezed as a black fog invaded his headspace. Tears rolled down his cheeks and fell to the dirt, creating muddy splotches on the copper canvas. His eyes pinched shut, cloaking his mind in a sea of soothing darkness. After a bout of steadied breaths, he wiped the anguish on a sleeve and continued towards the pale remains.

The man stepped onto the upper slab and slowed to a stop at the weathered table. He stood there for a time, looming over the skeleton with a cold detachment. The skull lay on its cheek and stared back at the man through vacant sockets. The jaw was closed and held in place by splintered wood, forming a permanent grin. A spinal serpent slithered through a tunnel of frayed fabric and down to a pelvis resting on the bench.

With a heavy sigh, the man pulled his gaze across the majestic landscape and nodded with understanding. He unhooked the backpack from his shoulders, placed it on the table, then settled beside the skeleton as if to greet an old friend. His weary gaze locked onto the wooden planks as his brain struggled to digest the moment. After a brief silence, he reached into his backpack and withdrew a few items.

An old tablet with a scratched screen.

A solar charging mat.

A timeworn book.

He unraveled the mat and placed it face-up on the table, covering a square foot of space. A quick swipe powered the tablet, which connected to the mat and pinged with confirmation. The screen flickered to life and offered a sparse array of applications. He tapped a media icon, which opened a simple audio recorder. The man exhaled a measured breath, eyed the ragged book, then tapped the start button.

Well, he said, I guess I should start at the end.

PART I: THE FALLOUT

There is no escape. Go, be with your family. Hold them now and mend your broken bonds.

- Thomas Beacham, KGFX News

CHAPTER 1

My name is Jonas.

Today is March 30th, 2621. I use the Gregorian calendar because it’s what I know from childhood. I could also say that the year is 485 of the Eternal Age, but that world ended on November 7th, 2580.

I haven’t seen another living person in over 40 years.

To be perfectly honest, I have no idea why I am even recording this, as I don’t know who could listen to it. I am 65 years old and sitting at a picnic table overlooking the Grand Canyon. It’s a magnificent sight, and one that I always wanted to see in person.

Although, I might have chosen a different companion than the one beside me. The skeleton is human, that much is clear. The bones give ‘em away.

That was a joke, by the way.

But yeah, I guess that warrants an explanation.

Eternals ruled the world for the better part of four centuries. They were an immortal race that overthrew humanity and conquered the planet. When an eternal dies, they disintegrate, bones and all. For that matter, I’m not sure why I still call them eternals. That’s their word. Old habits die hard, I guess. It’s easier on the mind to call them vampires.

When that reign ended, it left a void. The world got quiet. Humans were already on the verge of extinction and we depended on the vampires to survive. We lived like benign parasites, feeding off the host while trying to undermine its rule. The last of us were scattered across the northern latitudes, about two dozen families. We stayed in contact through hidden proxies, but our locations remained secret. It was a strategy aimed at keeping us alive, as none of us could be pressured into divulging the whereabouts of others. But when the coms died, we died with them. The remnants of humanity uncovered a new kind of isolation.

I know this person next to me.

And they know me back.

Just a factor of numbers, really. I doubt that names even matter anymore. But in any case, this is the first legitimate conversation I’ve had since the bombs dropped.

The Solar Fusion Bomb, or SFB, was a weapon developed by NExUS in order to curb a wave of uprisings back in the early days. The device ignited a fusion reaction that covered hundreds of square miles under a blast of ultraviolet radiation. It was meant as a deterrent, which worked a trick. The bomb was decommissioned after the coalitions surrendered, or so the public thought. NExUS continued its production in secret.

Centuries later, a terrorist broke into a storage facility.

I watched the first one explode over Seattle.

I was 23 at the time, and the blast killed my wife. I was holding her in my arms when she disappeared. Yes, she was a vampire. But, she was also a victim of circumstance, as most of us were. She didn’t choose that life, but she lived it as best she could. I admired her for it. I loved her more than anything, and I miss her to this day.

We met in Seattle. I was living there as a spy for the human resistance. The vampires called us transients, due to our inability to mask our age indefinitely. She worked ... Anna, worked as a clerk in my best friend’s store. He, Doren, was also a vampire, and I do not use the phrase best friend lightly. He was my best friend. And she was the love of my life.

I was part of a global effort that sought to destroy the vampire society by releasing a plague. We almost succeeded, if not for my own betrayal. I saw great value in the eternal culture, and I saw great evils in our plot to overthrow it. During this time, I fell in love with Anna and she fell in love with me. The foundation of our relationship was constructed on a lie, but we managed to rebuild it with a shared desire to sow peace. We escaped the city and went into hiding. We fled to the Yukon where we began to build a new world from the ground up.

We were making progress.

And then the Axeman came.

This man, this one human being, managed to topple a global empire with a pair of logging axes. It baffles the mind. He accomplished in one week what the whole of humanity failed to do for hundreds of years. And what he did was actually quite simple. He realized that exposing the rot was far more powerful than fighting the reign.

While the world was distracted, he and his brother hijacked a pair of stealth ships, stole an arsenal of SFBs, and bombed every major city on the planet. And the world let ‘em, because the rulers were too afraid of the dregs. When you threaten a superiority complex, it will fight every enemy but the one that matters. And that’s exactly what it did.

The brothers also released the very plague that I had fought to prevent. I surrendered it to NExUS to save the world, their world, and they thanked me by mass-producing it. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Power does not relinquish power. But it does get complacent, which is how the Axeman worked his magic. The sheer efficiency of the grand annihilation was almost inspiring, like an orchestra conductor giving the performance of a lifetime.

The devastation was utter and absolute.

Passionate and complete.

Perfect.

I ...

I tried to stop it.

We confronted the terrorists up at the storage vault on Mount Rainier. And by we, I mean myself and some government agents. They had coerced me out of hiding to try and stop the attack, but the entire operation spiraled out of control. A lot of good that did. The agents were killed and I was left alive to witness the carnage. I learned at the last minute that the terrorists had kidnapped my wife. They, um ...

When the first bomb dropped, I ... we were standing on an external landing

Reviews for The Mortal Vestige

[geoffhabiger · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The Mortal Vestige, the final book in Zachry Wheeler’s Immortal Wake trilogy, finds Jonas in shock after the dramatic events that played out at the end of Thursday Midnight. A terror sweeps across the world of the Eternals and Jonas has been a witness to mass genocide. He is adrift in a world that he had first tried to destroy, then embraced and worked to find common ground in between Eternals and humans. But now Jonas must comb through the ruins of civilization in search of hope. Zachry has done an amazing job in this final book in the trilogy. Jonas has been our guide throughout the series on the world of the Eternals – vampires who managed to take over the earth and create a utopia. But as the series has progressed, we get glimpses that all is not as it seems in paradise. As Jonas moves through the world after the catastrophic events perpetuated on Eternal society, he has a sliver of hope that maybe, somewhere, some vestige of humanity has survived. He leans upon his memories, of his friends and his wife, who have all died, to give him purpose. But throughout his journey hope is continually dashed. I really enjoyed seeing Jonas go through this passage as we see how a man copes, struggles, and creates mental crutches to push on when all hope seems lost. I also applaud Zachry for tackling this story. After the end of Thursday Midnight I had no idea how the story would conclude, how he would complete the saga. Zachry has masterfully tackled the tale, taking Jonas (and the reader) on a roller coaster ride of emotions as hope and despair vie for dominance. Jonas takes on the mantle of “last man on earth” and his struggle to come to terms with literally the extinction of both the human and vampire races shows us more about humanity in general and what drives us. Zachry also shows us that the world of the Eternals was filled with a lot of rot, that the supposed utopia that they had created had a rotten core. This then becomes a cautionary tale that nothing is ever as it seems and blindly accepting propaganda – as the Eternals do with the NExUS propaganda – will ultimately lead to the destruction of society. The Mortal Vestige is a wonderful conclusion to an ingeniously written trilogy. I highly recommend this book, and this series. I received an advance copy of the book in exchange for a fair and honest review.